Summer 1969 – All Fronts Torn Asunder

Buckler smiled. Somehow this expression made his face look momentarily gentle. He said, quietly and gently but with complete determination, “I have chosen to wear the face that reflects my soul rather than the mask that has been reflected in the mirror. I have set aside the little man that bowed and scraped before his drooling oppressors. I have buried the coward who laughed at the jokes that cut inches from his spine with every jape. I have become the man that the slave masters have always feared. I will not go back.”

Cyclone spat a bloody stain at his left foot. She said, “You’ve killed brothers and sisters. You’ve killed children. Little Bobby was a kind man. You’re a monster.”

Buckler’s smile became something sharp and angular and very nasty. He said, “Little Bobby was a suit I wore because I thought I was too small to fit in any other skin. I’ve grown up.”